Car Dealer Deal
by VioletRose13
Summary: One-shot Black Mass story. What happens when an ordinary high school girl meets the notorious James "Whitey" Bulger?


What was it like when you bought your first car? Some people have it good, some people are pretty terrible at it, and some are fifty-fifty about the whole thing. But for me, it was nothing short of a nightmare turned into a dream… _after_ I got the car I wanted. Name's Whitman, Alex Whitman. I'm sixteen years old and I was about to buy myself a car. But I didn't know it would be so… complicated afterwards.

The year was 1997 in Brooklyn, New York and I was on my way to the car dealer with my mom. I was practically drenched in my own sweat I was so nervous. When we got there, the car place itself was disheveled and it looked really out of shape. I didn't know what to think; I certainly wasn't getting a positive vibe. When my mom and I were looking around at all the different cars, I finally saw something that peaked my interest. It was an amazingly gorgeous Honda Civic. It was the most beautiful model I've ever seen. And Honda was _always_ my favorite make and I just had to try it out.

"Mom? How about that one?" I asked, pointing to it.

"Are you sure you want… _that_ one?" My mom asked.

"Yes."

That was when an average looking guy with combed dusty blond hair and wearing a dark blue suit walked up to us and said, "Ladies, are you interested in that little beauty right over there?"

"What if we are?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. I felt my mom nudge me with her elbow.

"Well, you've come on the right day. Allow me to give you a personal lecture of this fine station wagon." He said, leading us to the civic.

Mom and I got a good look at it and I definitely liked what I was seeing. My mom was thinking otherwise. I soon climbed in and it felt good. The seat was perfectly adjusted, it was comfortable enough, and all of the seats were leather; I _loved_ leather. The steering wheel was the perfect size, my feet could reach the pedals, and not to mention that this thing had an amazing looking stereo. And on the door by the driver's seat, I saw the VIN number; it was 10293847465. Easy to remember, right?

"I'll take it." I said, looking the dealer in the eye after coming back from a test drive.

"What? But, honey… are you… are you pretty sure?" Mom stammered.

"Yes, mom. It speaks to me." I insisted.

"Great. Then follow me." The guy said as I climbed out.

Inside, we were discussing the price. It had no real base price, the invoice price was pretty decent, and the MSRP seemed pretty decent, too. But I doubt I'll be selling it anytime soon, since I was about to purchase it. The dealer, Mr. Orlando, was a pretty nice and smart guy. When he showed us the title, it seemed pretty standard and in order. There was the optional equipment, basic warranty, dealer incentives, trade-in value, dealer holdback, and all of the other information we needed for a certified pre-owned vehicle like this.

"So Mrs. Whitman, what do you say?" He asked.

"Well… I… I… I guess we'll take it." Mom said in defeat.

She didn't know it but I was cheering and dancing on the inside. I finally got the car I wanted. All of the other car places we went to were just plain unreliable and way too expensive for my taste. So, mom and I signed the papers and I was driving home in my new civic. But I'd be lying if I said that was the end of it.

One evening, while I was driving past that car dealer place again, I saw that all of the cars were gone. I drove to the store and stopped in front of it. I climbed out and looked around the area. It looked completely vacant, devoid of life. It kind of rattled me a little.

"Hello! Mr. Orlando! You here?" I called out, no answer. This worried me.

"Mr. Orlando! Are you alright? It's Alex Whitman! You sold me the civic a few days ago?" I called again.

I heard an unfamiliar voice coming from inside the building ask me, "How's it workin' for ya, kid?"

"It's… working great, thank you." I answered in a nervous tone.

Then I realized something.

"Wait… who said that?" I asked.

"Nobody important. Just me." The voice replied calmly.

"And who… is 'me'?" I asked; no answer.

Then, I saw something inside the building. It was really dark inside, but I could just see a tall figure standing still in the doorway.

"Hello? Who's in there?" I asked, squinting my eyes.

"Come inside and we can talk, _Alex_." The voice said.

I was really scared; I didn't know what to do. Should I go in and see who was talking to me or should I jump in my car and stomp on the gas? But then, the disembodied voice made the scariest threat I ever heard.

"Get in here right now or I'll use your bones as toothpicks." The voice said.

After that, I then heard the sound of someone cocking a gun. In a state of fear, I ran into the building as fast as I could and stopped when I was smack in the middle of it all.

"Okay! I'm inside! What do you want, stranger?" I asked, trying to catch my breath.

"Sit." The voice said.

I turned my head and saw half of what used to be an old Chevy, so I walked over and sat down on the floor. I waited for a few seconds until I heard footsteps. I looked up and I saw a man with thinning blond hair and freckled skin. He was wearing a pair of sunglasses, a leather jacket, a white shirt underneath, denim pants, and black leather boots. And I also saw that he was wearing a golden chain around his neck and some kind of thick golden ring on his left pinky finger. He walked over to the car I was in and leaned in closer to me, looking at me straight in the eye. I felt a little threatened.

"_You're_ Alex Whitman?" He asked, removing his glasses. I saw his pale eyes, it scared me.

"Uh… yes?" I said nervously.

"Was that a question?"

"No?"

"Sorry…?"

"No! Who are you?"

"Ya don't know who I am?"

"No."

"Well, I'll tell you. The name's Jimmy Bulger. You've probably heard of me, I'm sure."

I was shocked when I heard the man's name. I couldn't believe that I was actually talking to James 'Whitey' Bulger, the most notorious, most ruthless, and possibly the smartest gangster in the country and he was looking right at me.

"_You're_ James 'Whitey' Bulger? But what are you doing out here in Brooklyn? And what do you want with _me_?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"I'm on the run. And I want _you_… to join my new gang." He answered.

"Say what?"

"Yeah. You've got moxie, spunk, sass. A certain… je ne sais quois as they call it. And I want ya to join me. If ya do, you'll probably be just as famous as me."

"And… if I refuse?"

"If ya _don't_ join… I'll turn you into a human skin rug with nothing but my bare hands, a machete, a tennis racket, and a needle and thread."

"Deal!"

I immediately took the man's hand and shook it. Even though it just happened, I still had no idea what was going on. It seemed to me that my life was about to take an unexpected turn… all from buying a civic.

The next few days were kind of uneventful. I didn't hear a lot from Mr. Bulger and I was kind of glad, except for one day when I got a letter of some kind. It was given to me at school during my fourth hour class, English.

"Alex, there's a letter here for you." The teacher, Mrs. Bone said as she held the letter up.

I walked to her desk, took it, and immediately went back to my seat. I opened it and I was frozen in place. It was from Bulger. I knew I had to wait until lunch to tell someone about that day I bought my civic. I couldn't keep it in anymore.

The school bell rang. Finally! I went down to the cafeteria and I asked my friend Jody to come with me to the girls' room to have a _private_ conversation. I looked around to make sure no one was around and I thought it was clear.

"Alex, what's all this about?" Jody asked as I pulled her into a nearby stall and closed the door.

"Jody, when I tell you this, you have to promise not to tell anyone." I said to her as we sat down.

"I promise."

"Good. You know that letter I got in English earlier?"

"Yeah."

"You know who it's from?"

"No."

"It was from… Bulger."

"Bulger? You mean… _James Bulger_?"

"No, I mean Mikey Bulger from eighth grade. Yes, it's from Whitey Bulger!"

Jody was in shock. "YOU KNOW WHITEY BULGER?!" She screamed.

"SHUSH! Keep it down!" I hissed, frantically covering her mouth with my hand. "I don't want anyone finding out. I don't wanna get into any trouble."

"Gotcha. So what does your letter say?"

"I have it right here."

I took the letter out of my book bag, opened it, and I read it aloud to her. The letter said:

"_Alex,_

_It's Bulger, we need to talk. Meet me at that place you got your car at four o'clock sharp later today and be sure to come alone. It's very important that you show up. I'll be waiting._

_Your new boss, Whitey_"

"Wait… 'Your new boss'? Alex…?" Jody asked nervously.

"Yeah. A few days right after I got my civic… Mr. Bulger found out about me somehow and he wanted me to join his new gang." I answered solemnly.

"But you didn't agree… did you?"

"No… he said that if I didn't agree to his demands, I die. Though the exact thing he said was: 'If you don't join, I'll turn you into a rug' or something like that."

"Yeesh."

"Exactly. So, that's it. It's not like I had much of a choice."

"So… you're officially working for Bulger now, huh?"

"Yeah. Afraid so."

"Wow. So… so I guess I'll see you around."

"Sure… whatever."

And with that, Jody left the bathroom with her backpack and lunch in tow, leaving me sitting on the bathroom floor. I just hoped she would keep all of that a secret. After school, I immediately drove off to the car place. It was about five minutes past four, but I made it.

"Mr. Bulger?" I called out.

"You're late." He said. I saw him sitting at an old desk with his feet resting on it.

"Sorry. Traffic." I said.

"I don't wanna hear your excuses. We have somethin' to discuss. Sit."

"Yes, sir!" I sat on the opposite end of the desk.

"You got the letter I sent?" He asked.

"Yes." I answered in a nervous tone.

"You know what we have to talk about?"

"No."

"We need to talk about you, kid. You need a new look."

I had no idea what he meant. "What are you saying? What's wrong with my look now?"

"Don't ya get it? Everythin' is wrong." He sat up straight and looked me in the eye. "You need to look tougher when you're out in the open. A girl your age needs a new style if you're gonna be workin' for me. Firstly, get rid of that potato sack you're wearin'."

"You mean my school uniform?"

"Exactly. This _thing_ you're wearin', it just screams: 'Hi, I'm an ugly hoar who always does what I'm told!' Ugh! You need more leather and metal in your wardrobe. And we need to get you into shape too."

"What do you mean 'get me into shape'?"

"I mean you need to start liftin' weights, runnin' laps, anythin' to get you stronger and faster. And you _definitely_ need to lose some weight at that."

So, that was it; I started training with Mr. Bulger. He kept a log of everything I did from running laps around the building to trying to lift heavy car parts to different places. It was really tough and I was always exhausted after every 'workout' he forced me to do, but I think it was kind of worth it in the end. I was thinner, faster, and stronger than I was before.

Soon, it was time to find me some new clothes. I wanted to go to the mall, but Bulger insisted on going someplace where clothes are cheap… or free in this case. And I didn't mean a discount department store, I meant the dump.

Even though I was disgusted beyond belief and a bit skeptical, I didn't want to argue with Bulger so I kept quiet. We rummaged through piles and piles of trash searching for new stuff for me to wear. I found some nice old dresses, sweaters, and boots, but Bulger found some torn up jeans, t-shirts, sneakers, and jackets.

"I like this stuff." I said, showing him what I found.

"No, no, no. How 'bout this?" Bulger asked, holding up his findings.

Then all of a sudden, inspiration struck. It hit me like a frozen slush ball on a freezing day in January. I took all of the stuff we found and I decided to mix and match them to see what I can put together. I threw them all on the ground and looked at them.

"What are you doin'?" Mr. Bulger asked.

"Can't talk; I'm thinking." I answered, looking down at the clothes on the ground.

"Well whatever it is you're doin', can you stop? We're doin' somethin' important here."

"Yeah, so am I. I'm gonna need a mannequin."

"You expect me to get one for you?"

"Never mind. I'll get it myself. There's bound to be something like that around here."

I began to search every pile again, throwing every piece of trash and scooping armfuls of garbage out of the way looking for a mannequin. And soon, I found one. I took it out of a big pile of plastic junk and back to the clothes I laid out. I looked at them very closely and thought, 'Which would go with which?' Bulger was really confused and annoyed with me and he must've thought I was wasting his time doing this. I soon heard him take out a gun and I felt it aimed at the back of my head.

"My patience is runnin' thin, kid. Tell me what you're doin' or you can forget about gettin' everything I told ya." He said, cocking his gun.

"Trust me; I know what I'm doing." I replied.

"Sure hope so."

On the outside, I looked perfectly calm but on the inside, I was freaking out. I didn't want to die; I wanted to show him what I could do. Then, I got an idea. I picked up a leather jacket, a dark red mini-dress, some jeans, and a pair of paddock boots. I put them on the mannequin and turned around to let Bulger see.

"What do you think?" I asked.

"Try it on and let's see how it looks on _you_." He answered.

"Got it. But don't look!"

"Fine. I won't look."

So, I took the clothes and I went into the nearest building, which was an abandoned shack a few yards away. I took off my uniform and tried on the new outfit. I think Mr. Bulger was waiting for quite a while and he was getting more and more annoyed, but he should learn by now that girls take really long when trying on new clothes.

"Okay, I'm coming out." I called to him.

I walked out in my new outfit and I could tell right away that Bulger seemed to like what he was seeing. He told me to keep trying stuff on and soon, I was modeling every piece of clothing we found. And the weird thing was that I was pretty okay with it. In the end, we decided that _all_ of the clothes we found looked great.

When I got home that night, I put the clothes from the dump into my closet and when I looked at my uniform again, I got another idea. I tore the sleeves of the dress shirt and I snipped parts of the skirt and leggings off. Then I looked in the mirror on my dresser and looked at my new disheveled uniform. I smirked.

The next morning, I went to school in my new ensemble. As I walked down the halls, I could tell everyone was surprised; I even let my hair down, which is something I hardly _ever_ do… until now. I felt like an entirely different girl in this get up. It seemed to me that meeting Whitey Bulger was probably the _best_ thing that ever happened to me. Every student and faculty member in school was shocked and they all stared as I walked by, either with surprise, astonishment, or disdain, but I didn't care. I felt powerful and strong, something I never felt once in my life. But then, Principal Brink finally noticed. I was sent to her office at once, but I wasn't scared of her. I sat on the opposite end of her desk with my feet resting on the wood.

"Miss Whitman, I understand that you're not wearing your uniform today." She said.

"Yeah, so?" I answered.

"_So_, where is it? And where did you get this _atrocious_ attire?"

"Firstly: well played alliteration. Secondly: my uniform is somewhere in my closet back at home. And thirdly: I got this stuff at the dump a few days ago… with a friend."

"Which friend?"

"Oh, wait. Did I say _friend_? I meant _boss_."

"You mean to tell me that you went to the local garbage heap with some sort of rogue employer to pick out _clothing_?"

"…Yep."

I could tell right away Brink was shocked with me; the emotion was stamped on her face, for crying out loud. She definitely didn't expect to see one of her prized students behave the way I just did. Or even dress the way I did, either.

"Alexandra Whitman, I do not know where this is coming from, but I know it _cannot_ be tolerated. This new employer of yours must be some form of a negative influence." She said.

"Negative influence? Seriously?" I asked with a chuckle. "You don't know the half of it."

"Oh, really?" She answered. "If you want to continue doing exceptionally well in this school and better yourself after graduation, then I suggest you walk away from this… this occupation at once before this _phase_ of yours gets _too_ out of hand."

"Are you suggesting I _quit_?"

"To put it bluntly, yes. Is there a problem with that?"

"There _is_. I'll tell you one thing, Principal Brink, this is _no_ phase. I can't quit this job even if I _wanted_ to, which I _don't_. My boss said that if I didn't take this job, he'd _kill_ me."

By now, Brink was clearly both shocked and repulsed. I could tell by the expression on her face that she wasn't happy with me. She wants to take away the only excitement in my life and she wants me to go back being just like everybody else in that stupid school.

"Who is this employer?" She finally asked.

I thought about it for a moment; I couldn't tell her about Bulger, at least not now. He'd kill _her_, then _me_ for ratting him out. He hates rats.

"Sorry; you ain't gettin' _nothin'_ outta me. Now if you'll excuse me, I got important _shit_ to do."

And with that being said, I stood up and walked out of Principal Brink's office with my head held high, leaving Brink herself sitting at her desk flabbergasted. At lunch, nobody wanted to sit with me. But I didn't care; I decided to eat by the trash cans, since nobody would dare to bother me there. At the end of the day, I didn't go straight home like I should've. I immediately went to the old car place again to meet up with Bulger.

"Perfect, right on time." Bulger said as I came in.

"Yep. What do you wanna talk to me about this time, boss?" I asked.

"Before we start… I got a surprise for you."

That was when I saw Bulger go to a nearby desk and it looked like he was removing something from one of the drawers. It was a big pair of scissors and I backed up a little.

"Wait. What are you doing?" I asked, taking a step away.

"Relax. I'm just gonna give you a haircut and a few piercings. To make you look a little tougher." He said.

I blushed, clearly embarrassed. I sat down in a nearby chair and waited. I felt him pulling my hair and in an instant, I felt the scissors slice off all of my hair except for some of the blonde stuff still clinging onto my scalp. And right after that, I felt something sharp pierce throw my earlobes. It was all hard and I was scared of the results, but I kept calm. When he was finished, Bulger held a mirror to my face, waiting for a response. I was shocked; in the mirror was a person I hardly recognized… and I liked it.

"What do you think?" He asked.

"…Perfect!" I shouted.

"I knew you'd like it."

"Thanks, Mr. Bulger."

"Don't mention it."

"Nobody ever did anything like this for me before."

"C'mon kid, don't talk like that. You're breakin' my fuckin' heart here."

"No, I'm serious."

"You know, kid, since you're being so grateful for everything I've done for you this past while and since you're always so loyal to me, I think it's about time… I taught you how to cause a little destruction."

"Where do we start?"

"There's the attitude I'm lookin' for."

From that day on, Bulger started teaching me a bunch of different threatening things. It was great; he taught me how to fight and play dirty, how to fire different types of guns and use different weapons, how to make anything into a weapon, and he even showed me how to kill people with just my bare hands. This went on for a few weeks; it was tough, but in the end I felt like I was a lean mean killing machine.

"Alex, since there's just about nothing else I can teach you, I think it's time for you to put those new skills of yours to the test." Bulger told me.

"What do you have in mind?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Are there any pricks or bastards at school that give ya a hard time?"

"Well, there are a couple people that really push my buttons." I explained. "They're always making fun of me or beating me up for no reason at all."

"Well, why don't ya tell 'em you wanna make amends… if you know what I mean." He winked.

I smiled and nodded. The next day, I invited my sworn enemy, Beth Jamison, to my house to talk for a bit. When she arrived, she was laughing at my new hair, clothes, and makeup. I wasn't offended, that's what I was hoping for. She was falling right into my trap.

"Wow, nice house." Beth said, catching her breath.

"Thanks." I replied flatly.

"For a slut." She cackled.

"Oh, you think I'm a slut? Can a fucking slut do this?"

Without missing a beat, I took a knife out of my back pocket and I threw it at her head. But she ducked when I did; the knife missed her and it hit an expensive looking vase instead and stuck itself into the wall. Beth was clearly shocked and terrified by my actions.

"What was that for?!" She screamed as she rose and looked at me. "I didn't do anything to you!"

"Are you serious, Beth?" I asked in a rude tone. "You've been nothing but a bitch to me since the seventh grade. Remember cheerleading tryouts? What was that you said? Oh yeah. You said to me, "You wanna be a cheerleader? Please. You think I want a filthy, ugly lowlife bitch to join us? Why don't you just do us all a favor and go back to the dumpster where you came from?" So, I think it's about time for _me_ to return the favor."

That was when I grabbed Beth by the neck and I threw us against the wall. I put all my strength into strangling her to death; she was begging, pleading, screaming, and crying the whole time. But after half a minute, everything went quiet. She was dead and I was the one who caused it. I dropped Beth's lifeless body, stood up straight, and blew some hair out of my face. That was when my mom came in, a look of shock and rage stamped on her face.

"Alexandra Berthe Whitman! What have you done?!" She screamed.

"What does it look like to you, you whore?" I said calmly; she gasped at my use of language. "I killed Beth Jamison. So what?"

"Alexandra, I don't know what's gotten into you, but I don't like it and I want it to stop _right now_!" She demanded.

"Oh, yeah?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "What are you gonna do about it, you old bag?"

"HOW DARE YOU?!" She screamed. "For killing that girl, I'll have no choice but to take away your car, sell it for scrap metal, and take _you_ straight down to the—"

That was when I heard a few gunshots and in an instant, my mom fell to the floor right at my feet. She laid still, her body cold and unmoving. I saw that she had a few holes in the back of her head, bullet holes, all squirting a fresh crimson liquid, her own blood. I looked up from my mom's corpse and I saw Mr. Bulger coming out from behind a wall with a gun in his hand. He smirked at me as he put the gun into his back pocket; I smirked back.

"Nice job, kid. Two stiffs in one day. That must be a new fuckin' record, huh?" He said, putting a hand on my shoulder and putting the gun back in his pocket.

"I can't take _all_ the credit. _You_ took one of them out the _easy_ way and _I_ took the other one out the _hard_ way." I replied.

"I guess. Wait… your middle name is _Berthe_?" Bulger chuckled.

"Wasn't my idea." I grumbled.

"Can't argue with that."

"No offense or anything but, why'd you shoot my mom anyway? I could've done it myself."

"You know that I hate rats and tattle-tales. Plus, she was gonna turn your civic into scrap metal. I couldn't let her do that, now could I? Hey, I'm starved. You got any food around here?"

"Yeah, I guess I could whip something up for us. Speaking of which, wanna stay for dinner? I'm sure mom won't mind if you do."

"Love to."

So, Bulger stayed for dinner that night and I whipped us both up a little something-something. He definitely liked it and when he finished eating, Bulger let out a satisfied belch and he pushed his plate away from him with a smile.

"Mmmm! I can't eat another bite of… whatever that was." He said to me.

"Oh, it's nothin'. Just a little dish I like to call noodles and chicken." I replied before taking a sip of my drink.

"Alex, what did you marinate this meat in? Because it's outta this world. Probably the best chicken I've ever had in my life. And on top of the pasta with the parmesan cheese? My God! You never stop wowin' me, kid."

"_That's_ the secret ingredient, Mr. Bulger."

"What is it?"

"I ain't tellin' you. I said it's a _secret_."

"C'mon, ya _gotta_ tell me. Come on, kid, you can do it."

We then started laughing, more so me. So much so that I nearly choked on my drink. I knew what he was trying to do.

"What's your secret ingredient that makes this meat so delicious?"

"Okay, okay! It's mix of a bit of salt and black pepper, a little bit of ground garlic… and the _tiniest_ hint of whisky."

"Whisky? That's it?"

"Yep."

"Like I said before, ya wow me to no end. You gotta gimme this recipe."

"In time, in time."

"You're catchin' on fast."

"Only learned from the best, boss."

"I couldn't ask for a better recruit."

"To success?" I asked as I raised my glass.

"To success." Mr. Bulger said as he raised his glass as well. We tapped our glasses together in a toast.

"So, what now?" I took a sip.

"We keep on doin' whatever and no one can stop us. Doin' anything whatever the fuck we want without gettin' busted for it." He told me. "Here, I want you to have this."

That was when he took a small box out of his coat pocket and pushed it my way. I took it, opened it, and I saw that it was a silver dog tag necklace with my first initial and my last name on it. I put on and he smiled.

"Perfect." He said proudly.

Then, I smiled; I just had an idea the second he spoke.

"What's wrong, kid?" He asked.

I whispered my idea into Bulger's ear and he decided that we should do it the next day. That's what we agreed to do. At school the next day during lunch, I stood up on one of the tables, took a bullhorn out of my bag, turned it on, and I spoke into it so everyone could hear me.

"Hey! Whoever's the owner of the white sedan out in front… you left your fuckin' lights on." I shouted to everyone.

And after that, I and everybody else heard a huge explosion out in the parking lot. I put some lit fireworks in that sedan a few minutes ago and they must've gone off, destroying it along with a few other cars. It was a beautiful sight. Then, I took a gun out of my back pocket and I shot it at a bunch of random places. Everyone soon ran around and started to panic.

I hit a couple students and teachers here and there and killed just a few people, but most of them were just really injured. Jody was one of the few kids I murdered; I shot her right in the back and when she fell, she snapped her neck. I figured she was going to tell someone about my encounter with Bulger sooner or later, but now I know she won't tell anyone about any of it.

Havoc broke out in the cafeteria; it was gorgeous in my eyes. I jumped down from the table and I nonchalantly walked out the door with my hands in my pockets as if nothing happened. I didn't care if this stuff got me expelled; I shot Principal Brink in the head about a couple dozen times. I knew she would've kicked me out if she was still alive, but I didn't care.

I dropped out of school right then and there. And once I was out, I permanently joined Bulger's new gang, now called the Brooklyn Whitmen. If you wanna find out more about me, watch the 1997 news.

I dare you.


End file.
